An Interesting Man
by Portwenn Hydra
Summary: The story is set shortly after Season 5. An American birdwatcher and his wife travel to Cornwall in pursuit of the Chough birds. The tourist becomes ill and is treated by Martin Ellingham. As the tourist and the doctor continue to meet over several days in Portwenn, the question arises "who is helping whom?" A short summertime read dedicated to the reviewer, "Chapin."
1. Chapter 1

**An Interesting Man**

**By Portwenn Hydra**

**Author's Note: Doc Martin and all of its characters, themes and plotlines are the property of Buffalo Pictures. This work of fiction is written for purely entertainment purposes and no infringement of legal rights is intended. Portions of this story are written from the perspective of a tourist from the United States, and there are many "Americanisms" in the story. We ask your indulgence. **

**Dedication**

**Portwenn Hydra put its six heads together to create this light, summertime story for our intrepid reader and reviewer, "Chapin." Readers and writers of Doc Martin Fan Fiction have benefited greatly from Chapin's insightful reviews, words of encouragement and dedication to the Doc Martin canon. Because his doctor is as skilled as Martin Ellingham, Chapin is now recuperating from successful heart surgery. Please join Portwenn Hydra in wishing Chapin well as we present in his honor this tale of Portwenn. **

**Chapter 1**

On the morning of July 4, 1976, Martha Anderson was fit-to-be-tied after a short phone conversation with her youngest daughter, Zarie. She had fully expected her to arrive in Elmwood at any moment to help with today's picnic. Instead Zarie had informed her that she and some fellow named Hal were running an hour or so late. They had just left Columbia but would arrive in time for the Bicentennial parade. Well they better hurry, fumed Martha. It wasn't every day the United States celebrated its 200th anniversary.

Joyce's two daughters, Jennifer and Kimberly, were riding on the Mayor's float, and Carolann's sons, Justin and Ryan, were marching with the Cub Scouts, bless their hearts. Martha's third daughter, Debbie, was expecting a baby any minute, so her husband, Mike, had decorated a little wagon in red, white and blue for two year old Jessica. She supposed he would pull her in the wagon along with that dog of his, Buddy. He didn't go anywhere without that dog.

When Martha bothered Zarie about getting married, she would always bring up Mike: "Really, mother, do you want me to marry someone like him?" From her first junior high school dance, Zarie had been one tough customer. She came home and pronounced all the boys stupid, although she had danced with at least ten of them that night. Her only objection was that the boys weren't all that interesting.

As she watched her three sisters wed, Zarie expressed her wish to marry an interesting man - not the dull-as-dishwater husbands her sisters selected. "Maybe, Miss Zarie," Mama recently chided her, "that's why you are 26 years old and there's no hint that you'll ever marry. You keep waiting for an interesting man, and one day you'll be an old maid like your Aunt Gloria."

Driving to Elmwood that day, Zarie Anderson knew she would not be an old maid. The night before Hal Chuppins had asked her to marry him. They had known each other for only ten months, but he was the most interesting man she had ever met. On their very first date, she realized Hal was the man for her.

Zarie had just begun her fifth year teaching fourth graders at Robert J. Polk Elementary School in Columbia, Missouri. She had graduated from the University of Missouri in Kansas City with a degree in elementary education and was hired immediately. Her student teaching reports were exemplary, and she had made the Dean's List for each of eight semesters at "Mizzou." Students loved her, the principal admired her and parents – even the mothers who ran the PTA – thought she was delightful. Zarie was happy with her job and had an active social life. What more could she want, except of course, an interesting man.

She met Hal the second week of school after watching him chase a teenage boy: "You cannot do this. You have to get back to the house. You've run away one too many times," he huffed. Standing next to her prized possession, a yellow Volkswagen Beetle, Zarie looked in horror as the man tackled the boy to the ground and then hauled him to his feet. Zarie wasn't sure what to make of this, so she ran from the school parking lot shouting: "Stop it this minute," as if she were scolding fourth grade boys at morning recess.

"Look lady, this kid's escaped from a halfway house, and I'm his social worker. I've got to catch him or he'll go back to jail." Zarie still wasn't convinced and trailed after the two only to make sure the boy was safe. A block away the man pointed to a house with a sign reading "Durward County Halfway House for Youth Offenders." "Now, are you satisfied, teach?"

Totally mortified, Zarie nodded, ready to hurry off with no further explanation needed. "Look, teach, let me get him inside. Then I want to ask you something."

No one had ever called her "teach," before, and Zarie stood frozen waiting for the man to return. It was more than ten minutes before he appeared and introduced himself as Hal Chuppins. He wanted to talk to Zarie about her school. It was in a fairly poor part of Columbia, and he wondered if there were any "at risk" students at Robert J. Polk.

Of course there were. Many were in Zarie's class, but she treated them like everyone else and tried not to notice the differences. She gladly took them if the other fourth grade teachers became frustrated by their behavior. Being young, they didn't get on her nerves as they did the older women.

One thing lead to another, and Hal ended up meeting the school principal and setting up an after school program for at risk students. He was able to find money in the County's tight budget for his project and spoke of a mysterious benefactor. After the kids met for three weeks, Hal invited Zarie to a bluegrass music festival on Friday night.

What he didn't tell her was that he played banjo in one of the bands, and she would spend their date alone while he performed. Zarie didn't mind for one minute. Afterward he walked with her along the river and explained how he came to be a social worker.

Ending his four years of Army service in Viet Nam, he had taken his military benefits and gone off to the University of Missouri in Rolla. Originally, he wanted to be a forest ranger, because he loved the outdoors. But there was something about working with kids that called to him. He didn't have the patience for teaching, but thought he could help children with problems.

At the front door of her apartment building, Hal had been the perfect gentleman and said only "Night, teach." Her roommate, Sally Jane Pope, had been waiting for a complete report on the date, and Zarie gushed: "I'm going to marry him. I just know I am."

Now finally in Elmwood, Zarie was bursting to tell someone that her prediction had come true. She grabbed Hal by the hand and rushed into the house calling: Mama, Mama I've got something to tell you." But the house was empty. Stuck on the kitchen corkboard was a note from her mother: "We could not wait. We've gone on to the parade. If you miss it, your nieces and nephews will be very disappointed." Hal laughed as he read the note: "You didn't tell me I'd have mother-in-law problems."

Hal never had problems with her mother, nor anyone else in her family, especially her brothers-in-law who found they could talk about anything with him. Since their marriage in the summer of 1977, Hal and Zarie Chuppins had gotten along with most people. They even managed to get their three children through the teenage years without open warfare. Quite an accomplishment they both believed!

Zarie continued to teach and eventually became principal of a school even tougher than Robert J. Polk. Hal rose through the ranks of Durward County until he was offered a job managing the social welfare department. He and Zarie thought long and hard because the money was good, and they had two children in college. But Hal just wasn't made for management. He was a man of action and wanted to stay with the youth offenders. He always saw the best in them and turned around many young lives.

After the children finished college – and graduate school for the girls - Zarie and Hal relaxed a little more and took up hobbies. Zarie always wanted to try her hand at carpentry and finished a course in furniture making. She made a few small tables and was now working on a Windsor-style chair for Hal.

Hal's band had stuck together even though they did not perform much. Each year the five of them traveled to North Carolina for "Merlefest," in tribute to the late Merle Watson who performed with his dad, Doc Watson, a bluegrass music icon.

He had also become a lay minister at their church and was often called upon to perform weddings, particularly second and sometimes third marriages. It was at these events that Hal's goodness shone through. Known as the man who dispensed sound marital wisdom to the wayward, he often ended the ceremony by reading the poem: "Marriage Is A Bungee Jump," to the grateful bride and groom.

However, his most-recent interest was birdwatching, and he had joined a group of old codgers called "The Bird Brains." This was what brought him and Zarie to Cornwall, England, on this bright June morning. They were looking for Choughs.

On Saturday, they had attended the wedding of their niece, Georgia, in Edinburgh. Zarie's sister, Debbie, had gone into labor soon after they announced their engagement, and Georgia was born in the last minutes of July 4, 1976. Aptly enough she was named after George Washington, the first President of the United States.

Zarie smiled at the wedding remembering Martha Anderson's warning to Georgia on Christmas morning: "You'll be an old maid like your Great Aunt Gloria if you don't find a husband soon." At dinner Georgia announced her engagement to Malcolm Ferguson, a Scotsman she met while scuba diving in Aruba. Mama only sniffed: "I suppose he's an interesting man like your Uncle Hal."

Their daughters, Melissa and Laura, had been bridesmaids and son, Steve, had joined the other groomsmen in wearing a kilt made from the Ferguson family tartan. Except for the skirling bagpipes, Zarie and Hal had greatly enjoyed the day.

A long train ride through the stunning countryside of first Scotland and then England had brought them to the Bodmin Parkway Station in Cornwall. Their rental car awaited them, and Zarie thanked her stars that Hal had the foresight to take a few "right sided" driving lessons in Columbia. It had been difficult finding a car, but one of the Bird Brains provided a British MG he had bought only last year on Ebay.

The narrow lanes were lined with hedgerows, and Hal maneuvered through them with confidence. They were in pursuit of the Choughs of Cornwall, who were having an epic year on the nearby cliffsides. Hal was determined to make a Chough the 100th bird he identified and was quite excited. When the man at the car rental agency told them that David Attenborough was filming the Choughs for his "Life of Birds' series on the BBC, she thought Hal would pop.

He and the Bird Brains were great fans of the show, and after watching an episode, Hal could talk of nothing else. To see a Chough _and _David Attenborough - well she just wasn't sure what her husband would do. As they made their way toward the well-marked Lizard Point, Hal was sure he spotted some large caravans in the distance. He was soon proven right. They belonged to the film crew who had roped off areas near the cliffs, allowing entry to no one.

Other birders complained that the film crew would not let them proceed until Sir David announced a lunch break. That was only minutes away, and Hal and Zarie were patient. Nearly a half hour later, the ropes came down, and the birders tiptoed forward. No one wanted to be the person who frightened the Choughs.

First one bird ventured into the sky and then a second from their hiding place in a cave. Looking through his binoculars, Hal confirmed that they were indeed Choughs. Their red legs and long red bills were that distinctive. The other birders whispered in excitement as a third bird slowly flew from the cliff, circled and returned. Hal had begun recording the sightings in his birding journal when he turned to Zarie saying: "I don't feel so well." Then he collapsed at her feet.

Birders ran to him and several pulled phones from their pockets but found no signal on the moor. One of the film crew saw Hal collapse and shouted: "Let me get our nurse." Minutes later, an efficient woman examined Hal while peppering Zarie with questions. As the nurse was measuring Hal's blood pressure, he came around.

"Sir, your blood pressure is high, and your pulse is somewhat irregular. You should be seen by a doctor immediately. There's quite a good GP in Portwenn. He's treated a few gastro-intestinal problems for the crew and several bad sprains. He's not the most pleasant chap, but rumor has it that he was once a heart surgeon. Let's get you to Portwenn. It's only a few miles that way. We'll have a driver take you in one of our Rovers. You'll be more comfortable."

Zarie clung to Hal's hand as they bumped across the moor and then along the narrow village streets until arriving at a stone building with a wide terrace overlooking the harbor. As the driver helped them from the car, he said: "The doc's quite good, but I'd rather not stay about. Saw him once for a funny tummy, and he was a bit of a nutter. But you'll be fine. I'll come round in a bit to collect you."

As he deposited them on the terrace, a young woman wearing a short dress and an odd mix of jewelry rushed through the door calling: "Right then Doc, got it. Sterile gloves, nappies, tampons, adhesives and mouthwash. Sorry, I forgot them."

"Start remembering then, Morwenna," a disembodied male voice boomed. "If you can't be more responsible, there's no need to continue your employment at my surgery. Now hurry to the chemists and get back quickly," the man thundered, "I've a full schedule."

Zarie looked at Hal, and Hal looked at Zarie as a tall man dressed in the most beautiful suit imaginable walked through the door and groaned, "Oh God, tourists! This better be a genuine medical emergency."

To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

**An Interesting Man**

**By Portwenn Hydra**

**Author's Note: Doc Martin and all of its characters, themes and plotlines are the property of Buffalo Pictures. This work of fiction is written for purely entertainment purposes and no infringement of legal rights is intended. Portions of this story are written from the perspective of a tourist from the United States, so pardon the "Americanisms" in the story. **

**Chapter 2**

The first thought that crossed Hal's mind was where in the world had the driver taken them? What _was_ this place?

The small brick building facing them didn't look like any doctor's office he'd ever seen. It apparently doubled as the doctor's home, which reminded him of that old medical show, _Marcus Welby_, _MD. _Dr. Welby's house had also served as his office – but that program had aired nearly 50 years ago. What reputable doctor in the 21st century worked out of his home, even in a sleepy little harbor town like this?

The man in the elegant suit, at least a head taller than Hal, stared down at them with an expression that was far from welcoming. If anything, he looked annoyed at the intrusion.

"You're tourists?" he asked in a tone that seemed to equate tourism with terrorism.

"Uh, yes," Zarie answered. "From America - Missouri. We're here to see the choughs, you know, the birds. They're filming—"

"Do you _have_ a medical emergency?"

The intimidating voice, the tailored suit, the medical question – this man must be the doctor. Hal felt the intensity of his steady gaze and couldn't escape the feeling of being examined even as he stood on the stoop of the man's home. The whole situation bordered on the bizarre.

Hal was about to explain that his medical condition wasn't all that serious when Zarie jumped in. "My husband Hal. Hal Chuppins." She nodded towards him. "He was having chest pain and he fainted. The nurse said his blood pressure was low—"

"It wasn't _really_ chest pain," Hal said.

The doctor leveled his gaze on Hal. "Are you having chest pain at the moment?"

"I didn't have chest pain," he repeated, as much to Zarie as the doctor.

"Any pain in your arm or your jaw?"

Hal shook his head fiercely in the negative.

The doctor exhaled loudly. "Morwenna! Get back here."

Hal and Zarie's heads pivoted at the same time and watched the girl who a minute earlier had rushed out of the house now stop dead in her tracks halfway down the winding road, a quizzical expression on her face. "Thought you wanted me to go to the chemist and get all those things," she called out.

"Do that later." The doctor turned back to Hal and Zarie, motioning them toward the front door. "You. Come through."

Hal did as instructed, albeit not without some trepidation. The doctor didn't seem particularly interested in seeing him at a patient. He probably shouldn't have come here in the first place without an appointment and without a "genuine medical emergency."

A minute later, Hal glanced around the waiting room in which he and Zarie now found themselves. It was empty; they were the doctor's only patients. Maybe this doctor didn't _have_ any other patients. The pit forming in Hal's stomach only intensified.

The waiting room was out of the 1970s. Hal was no expert on decor, but the vomit green flowered wallpaper had to be one of the ugliest things he'd seen in years. The furniture could easily have had been purchased at a yard sale – and, as he slid onto one of the chairs, found it as uncomfortable as it was unattractive. Worse, the waiting room had no magazines – not even the horrid, outdated, quasi-medical stuff like _Parenting_ and _Healthy Living_ that were staples in his own doctor's office. All things considered, nothing in this room inspired confidence.

For that matter, neither did the girl who'd followed them inside and taken a seat behind the room's only desk. Good Lord, she must be the receptionist. She couldn't be much older than twenty and between the too-short skirt, revealing top, tawdry jewelry, and overdone makeup . . . the only things missing were tattoos and neon-colored hair. If she'd been Hal's daughter, he'd have never allowed her outside the house in that get-up. So what kind of doctor permitted his receptionist to dress like that?

"Have them register as temporary residents," the doctor said, turning on his heel and heading through a passageway into another room, ducking his head as he did so.

And then there was the doctor himself. The man certainly hadn't received a ringing endorsement from the locals. While they'd described him as "quite good," they'd also called him "not the most pleasant chap" and even a "nutter." The nurse on the television set had said he'd been a surgeon, which was confirmed by the "FRCS" after his name on the plaque outside the door. Hal could understand if the man were elderly and had retired from his surgical practice. But this doctor looked to be no more than fifty. So why had he left surgery in what should have been the prime of his surgical career to become a small town GP? No doubt he'd made some huge medical error, had been convicted of malpractice, or had something else go terribly wrong such that he'd had to give up his chosen profession and now was forced to ply his trade in this medical backwater.

Hal and Zarie exchanged a wordless look of concern. Hal had a bad feeling about this and, he could tell, so did his wife. Here he was in a sleepy town, in an outdated and old-fashioned office, with a potentially serious medical condition and about to put himself in the hands of a doctor who probably couldn't get a job anywhere else. Just great.

The receptionist came around the desk, earrings and bracelets jangling, and handed Hal a clipboard with a form attached. "Here you go. Just fill this out."

Zarie spoke up. "That's the doctor?" she asked in a resigned voice, nodding toward the open room.

"Doc Martin."

"Doc . . . Martin?" Zarie repeated.

The girl shrugged. "That's what folks around here call him. He's really Doctor Martin Ellingham."

Hal realized Zarie was less than impressed with what she'd seen – heck, both of them were – and this nickname didn't do anything to change that. Despite the doctor's impeccable suit, the man was clearly some local quack. Equally clearly, it had been a huge mistake to come here and, at the moment, Hal wanted to get out of this office as quickly as possible. Against his better judgment, he started filling out the registration form, half-listening to the conversation between the two women.

"The nurse said he was a heart surgeon," Zarie said.

"Vascular surgeon," the receptionist corrected. "In London." There was a hint of pride in her voice, and something else that Hal couldn't quite identify.

Hal's curiosity got the better of him. "So, what happened? What's he doing here?"

"He . . ." the girl started, then sighed. "It's a long story."

"Morwenna!" the doctor called out through the open doorway. "What's taking so long?"

"Almost done!" she called out toward the other room.

"The doctor doesn't seem to have much of a bedside manner," Zarie noted.

"That's not really his thing, if you know what I mean. But he's really, really good at the medical stuff."

Coming from this gangly teenager who probably couldn't get a job anywhere else in town, the words didn't offer much reassurance. Hal reluctantly handed over the completed form and watched her carry it to the doctor.

A minute later, he called through the open doorway. "Mr. Chuppins, come through."

Hal bit his lower lip. If he were to leave, now was the time to do it. He could make some excuse and head for an ER or even another local doctor. Or just go back to the hotel and rest. Still, the fainting spell had spooked him. He sighed. He was here; he'd filled out the stupid form. Best to give this doctor a shot; if it turned out to be a disaster, he could go somewhere else later.

Hal stood up and gazed uncertainly at his wife. They'd always done important things as a team and there wasn't much more important than the next few moments. He held out his hand. "Come on."

Stepping across the threshold from the waiting room into the doctor's office was like entering a small time warp. The interior was clean, neat, efficiently laid-out, and – most surprisingly – modern in design with medical equipment as up-to-date as any Hal had seen. He couldn't repress a small sigh of relief.

"Take a seat," the doctor ordered.

Hal sank into one of the patient chairs, finding it even less comfortable than the one in the waiting room. Zarie sat down next to him.

The doctor focused his gaze on Hal. "Tell me about your symptoms."

Not much one for small talk, was he? Then again, it wasn't as if Hal would be a long-term patient.

"We came to Cornwall a few days ago. I'm a birdwatcher and couldn't pass up a chance to see the choughs. When we found out they were filming the tv program here, that clinched it."

Dr. Ellingham rolled his eyes and blew out a short breath. "Your _medical_ symptoms."

"Right." Hal swallowed hard and continued. "I got a little dizzy, that's all."

"Hal! You passed out," Zarie said, and Hal watched the doctor give her an annoyed glance.

"How long were you unconscious?"

"A minute or two at most."

"Hmm. What medications are you taking?"

"Norvasc and Lasix. They're for high blood pressure."

Hal received another annoyed look. "I know what they're prescribed for. Dosage?"

Lord, the man was short-tempered. And why did doctors always think their patients were walking pharmacists? Hal took whatever medication in whatever dosage his doctor back home prescribed. "I'm not sure. I have the bottles back at the hotel."

The doctor sighed and made some notes on his form. "What have you had to eat today?"

"Toast and coffee for breakfast. Fish and chips for lunch. Have to admit they were even better than the ones in London—"

"And to drink?"

"The coffee and then a couple of Cokes with lunch."

The doctor appeared to scowl. "Any water?"

"Just a few sips with my medicine."

"A few sips?" the doctor mimicked and tossed his pen onto the desk. "Wonderful. You're taking diuretics and, instead of drinking plenty of water, you fill yourself with coffee and soda, both of which are dehydrating. No wonder you fainted."

"I didn't think—"

"No, you didn't think, which is why you're sitting here in my surgery."

Hal frowned. The doctor made it sound like failing to drink water was a crime. Of course, in retrospect, it hadn't been very smart.

"Earlier you said you felt unwell before you fainted," the doctor continued. "Tell me about that."

Hal blinked rapidly in surprise; Dr. Ellingham had been paying more attention than he'd realized. Maybe this guy wasn't a total quack. "I just felt a bit sick; nothing serious."

The doctor scowled at him. "I'll be the judge of that."

"I had a burning pain right about here." Hal pointed to an area on his torso just above the ribcage.

"Have you experienced the pain before?"

"A few times." Hal couldn't bear to look at Zarie. This was something he'd kept from her and knew he'd get a earful once they were alone.

"Is the pain worse when you bend over or lie down?"

How had the doctor guessed that? "Yeah."

After another minute of medical questions, the doctor stood up from his desk. "I want to examine you. Take off your shirt and vest and have a seat on the couch."

Hal frowned. He wasn't wearing a vest. And what did the doctor mean by a "couch?" He exchanged a questioning look with his wife as he stood up and unbuttoned his long sleeved shirt. The doctor grabbed his stethoscope off the desk and stepped over to a bank of cabinets along the far wall.

Hal looked around and decided he was supposed to sit on the exam table; that must be the couch. Odd that it was in the same room as the doctor's desk. And, the table was a bit . . . stark compared to the one in his own doctor's office. Oh well, in for a penny . . . He hopped up, still dressed in his white T-shirt and long pants.

"Mr. Huggins—"

"Chuppins," Hal automatically corrected.

"I need you to remove your vest so I can examine your chest," the doctor repeated, frowning. "Your . . . undershirt," he clarified, pointing.

"Oh." Hal quickly pulled the offending garment over his head.

For the next few minutes, he endured as thorough an exam as he'd ever experienced. The doctor took his temperature and pulse, measured his blood pressure sitting and lying down, listened to his chest, and then had him lie back while he palpated his abdomen. Once again, there was no small talk – merely a series of medical commands, which Hal did his best to follow. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zarie silently taking it all in. Just when Hal thought the exam was over, the doctor insisted on performing an EKG. When he'd finished, he yanked the leads off Hal's chest, arms and legs, and headed back to his desk, having given Hal no sense of what he'd found.

"Get dressed," he said, seating himself and starting to write again on the form.

Hal quickly donned his white tee, and then his shirt, carefully tucking them both in. He exchanged another glance with Zarie as he took his seat. Between the rigorous questioning and thorough physical exam, Hal was now convinced that the receptionist had been right: bedside manner aside, this doctor definitely knew what he was doing.

The doctor continued scribbling and Hal couldn't help but start to panic. He knew that, sitting beside him, Zarie was experiencing the same emotions. What in the world was wrong with him? Was it serious? Would he have to go to the hospital? Would their long-planned trip be ruined? A couple of times he started to speak, to ask this Dr. Ellingham how bad things were. Each time, he shut his mouth and sank back in his chair.

After a minute, the doctor looked up and sighed. "Your syncopal episode – the fainting – was caused by hypotension, or low blood pressure, likely due to dehydration from your medication and lack of fluid intake. If you drink plenty of water, your symptoms shouldn't return. However, we may need to adjust your hypertensive medications. How long will you be in Portwenn?"

"Four more days; we leave Sunday."

"Good. I'll need to check your blood pressure daily; you can come by the surgery in the morning and evening."

Hal didn't like the sound of that but, before he could object, Zarie spoke up. "That won't be a problem, Doctor. But what about his chest pain?"

"There's no evidence of a cardiovascular problem."

"Oh, thank God," Zarie murmured.

The doctor ignored her. "It's most likely gastroesaphogeal reflux disease, possibly caused by a hiatal hernia. It's easily treated with diet and medication. You should follow up with your GP when you return home."

"So, Doctor," Zarie said. "There's nothing to worry about; nothing seriously wrong with Hal."

"Serious? No, provided he drinks plenty of water, especially on warm days like this."

It was Hal's turn to speak. "Doctor, I can't thank you enough for seeing me on such short notice and for reassuring both of us—"

"Make an appointment with the receptionist to have your blood pressure checked tomorrow morning. In the meantime, go back to your hotel, drink water, and rest." The doctor stood up from his desk. "We're done."

It was clear they had been dismissed. Hal scrambled to his feet, as did Zarie. He started to hold out his hand to the doctor, and then thought better of it. "Thank you again."

"Right."

Hal and Zarie made their way to the door. This had all gone much better than he'd expected. He was a pretty good judge of people and, while this Dr. Ellingham lacked interpersonal skills, his medical skills seemed first rate. Still, there was one thing bugging him and just maybe, now that the professional visit was over, he might get an answer. He turned around at the door. "Doctor Ellingham, may I ask you something?"

"Do I have a choice?" the doctor asked in a tired voice.

"I'm told you were once a vascular surgeon in London. So, tell me, how did you ever end up _here_?"

* * *

**Medical glossary**

Diuretic – substance (including a drug) that increases excretion of water from the body

Gastroesophageal reflux disease – commonly referred to a GERD. Symptom of stomach acid coming up into the esophagus.

Norvasc – generic is amlodipine. It's a calcium-channel blocker used to treat hypertension (high blood pressure)

Lasix – generic is furosimide. It's a diuretic used to treat hypertension (amont other things).


	3. Chapter 3

**An Interesting Man**

**By Portwenn Hydra**

**Author's Note: Doc Martin and all of its characters, themes and plotlines are the property of Buffalo Pictures. This work of fiction is written for purely entertainment purposes and no infringement of legal rights is intended. Portions of this story are written from the perspective of a tourist from the United States, so pardon the "Americanisms" in the story.**

**Chapter 3**

"I'm told you were once a vascular surgeon in London. So tell me, how did you ever end up _here_?"

Hal was one of those people who was just an all-round nice guy. He liked talking to people. People liked talking to him, and often found themselves confiding in him because he was a good listener. That's what made him a good lay minister. His work with youth offenders meant that he was used to dealing with all sorts of troubled and difficult people. Even so, he was somewhat taken aback by Dr. Ellingham's blunt and frankly rude response to his friendly enquiry.

"Mind your own business," he snapped, not even looking up from the paperwork he was still completing.

"Oh! Right. It's just the nurse on the film set said you'd been a surgeon, which seems kinda odd when there can't be much call for a surgeon in this little village of yours. So I figure you must have an interesting tale to tell, is all I meant by asking," Hal persisted, sensing that such a hostile reply meant that it was clearly a very sensitive topic for the doctor.

Martin Ellingham sighed again and looked up from his paperwork.

"Why do you people all love to gossip so much? I'm not in the habit of discussing my personal affairs with any Tom, Dick or Harry who happens to walk into my surgery. So please, just do as I've instructed. Make an appointment with the receptionist to see me tomorrow morning, and then just bugger off and let me get on. Close the door on your way out."

"Come on Hal, let's just get out of here, you should go rest now, just like the good doctor says," Zarie said, glaring at the man for his rudeness, as she tugged on her husband's arm. She knew her husband only too well. In his usual canny way, he'd sensed that this Dr Ellingham was something of a troubled soul, and so was drawn to him, to try and get to the bottom of things. That's the way Hal was; he just couldn't help himself. But some folk just don't want to unburden themselves, surely he realised that by now.

Reluctantly Hal let himself be led away and out towards the receptionist's desk. The young girl was sitting reading a magazine at her desk, absently mindely chewing gum and fiddling with her long dangly earrings.

"All done then?" she piped up when she saw them.

"Yeah, seems I gotta come back for a check-up morning and evening while we're staying here. I still think it's a big fuss over nothing…"

"Hal Chuppins! You will just do as you're told! That was quite some scare you gave me today," Zarie exclaimed. "Look, I know he's not the most pleasant of men, but this Doc Martin seems to know what he's talking about on the medical front."

"Oh he does, he really is the best there is at all that doctoring stuff," the girl cheerfully agreed. "But yeah, he is one miserable, bad tempered tosser alright. I should know, working here every day. How Louisa puts up with him…"

"Louisa?" Hal queried curiously.

"His wife. They got married last Christmas, after having one of the longest on/off romances in the history of the village. She's the Head teacher at Portwenn Junior, and mum to their little boy, James Henry," the girl obligingly gossiped, as she brought up the appointments screen on her computer.

"He's married? Really?" Zarie queried incredulously.

"Yep. Hard to believe I know. But that's the reason he stayed on here in the village rather than returning to London to be some fancy pants surgeon again, like he was gonna do last year."

"What, he chose to stay here to be with this Louisa? How unexpectedly romantic of him!" Zarie exclaimed.

"See, I'm sure there's a lot more to this guy than first meets the eye," Hal said knowingly.

"You just can't resist a lame soul can you?" Zarie told him affectionately.

"I'm afraid he's already got a full list tomorrow morning. But seeing as the Doc has said he wants to see you, I'll have to squeeze you in somewhere. Would you be able to come first thing, just before surgery officially opens – say around eight fifteen?" the girl suggested.

"Sure, honey. That would suit us just fine, because that'll mean we've still got the rest of the day to catch up with what we came for – bird watching," Hal agreed happily.

"Oh you're one of them twitcher weirdoes are you?" the girl snorted. It was plain she couldn't think of anything worse than hanging around trying to catch a glimpse of some stupid bird.

"Well, we call ourselves 'The Bird Brains' actually…err…what was your name again missy, I didn't quite catch it?" Hal chuckled.

"Morwenna. Patron saint of Virgins. Think my mum was having a right laugh when she picked my name, don't you?" she sighed as she tapped at her keyboard.

"It's a very pretty name. Unusual," Zarie said quickly, before Hal could say anything about folk striving to live up to their Christian names. The poor girl had clearly had enough of people making smart comments.

"Right then, see you tomorrow morning, bright and early," Morwenna said, as Hal and Zarie made their way out.

**xXx**

Hal didn't believe in being tardy. Especially as Dr. Ellingham had been good enough to fit his checkup in before his surgery officially opened. So he and Zarie arrived in plenty of time for their eight fifteen appointment the following morning, and had to knock at the door to be let in just after eight o'clock.

After a minute or so, the door was opened by a very pretty dark haired woman, holding a blonde little boy who was squirming in her arms.

"Oh, hello there, you must be the American gentleman who was taken poorly yesterday. You're a little early, so would you mind just taking a seat and waiting a minute until my husband is ready for you?" she said pleasantly.

"Hal Chuppins. And this is my wife Zarie. Pleased to make your acquaintance ma'am," Hal said as he held out his hand.

"Oh right, yes, well I'm Louisa Ellingham, Dr. Ellingham's' wife. And this young man is James Henry, who is being a little pickle this morning," she explained, quickly shaking their hands as the baby continued to do his best to wriggle out of her arms. She led them through to the waiting room.

"What an adorable little man! How old is the little darlin'?" Zarie asked, smiling warmly.

"He'll be one next month. He's at that age where he's into everything, crawling and pulling himself up on the furniture. I need eyes in the back of my head!"

"Oh I remember that stage very well. We have three children of our own, all grown up now of course," Zarie explained as she smiled and cooed at the baby, making him giggle.

"Right well, I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me, I have to get us both ready to leave for work," Louisa explained. "I'll just tell my husband you're here."

With that she disappeared from the waiting room towards another area off to the left of the consulting room. Because there was no one else around, it was very quiet and so Hal and Zarie couldn't help but overhear their conversation.

"Martin? Martin, your patient is here," she called out.

"What? They're early, I haven't finished my coffee yet." That was the unmistakeable deep gruff voice of the man they'd seen yesterday.

"I'm just informing you, no need to snap my head off. It's okay, they've taken a seat for a few minutes. Can you just hold James while I get his bag ready for the child minder?" The baby was obviously getting fed up because he was crying now. Just a complaining type of cry, Zarie's experienced maternal ear told her, nothing more serious than that.

"No, I can't because you've just told me that my first patient is here, haven't you?"

"Yes, and you've just told me they're early. I'm going to be late for work again at this rate. I can't put him down because he'll off in a second and into goodness knows what. You know he found his way into the bathroom yesterday and managed to pull a whole roll of loo paper off before I got to him?"

"Alright, give him here. You, young man need to start learning to behave yourself!" The doctor's gruff voice sounded much softer when talking to his young son. The baby started chuckling in delight now, apparently at having caught his father's attention.

Hal looked over at Zarie and raised his eyebrows.

"See, there are hidden depths to the guy," he whispered to her. Zarie just looked sceptically at him.

"Oh God Louisa, he clearly needs his nappy changed, surely you can smell that!"

"But I've only just changed him! You couldn't just…"

"No! I have my patient to attend to in case you've forgotten."

"But I'm already running late, and I've still got all my paperwork to pack. It doesn't look good when the Head teacher is late. And I've got to drop him off at the child minder first don't forget."

"Louisa, it is your choice to work. I've made it abundantly clear numerous times that I'm more than happy to support you while you stay at home to look after our child. So don't complain to me now about how hard it is being a working mother."

"Don't start Martin. You promised you'd be more supportive,"

"And I am. I don't see what else you want from me. We stayed here in the village. You kept your job. What more do you want?"

"You could just be a little bit _nicer_, Martin. All of the time, not just when we ….you know. It's not a lot to ask is it?"

"You knew what I was like before you married me Louisa. You said you were fine with that, how you didn't want to change me, and yet now that's exactly what you seem to want!"

"Oh I don't have time for this. Here give James to me, I'll go and sort him out. Of course your job is _far_ more important than mine, heaven forbid anything should ever take priority over that!"

Hal and Zarie watched as Louisa now stormed back through the waiting area with her wailing son in her arms, gave them a brief apologetic smile, and then opened the stair gate to head upstairs.

Dr. Ellingham appeared.

"You're early Mr Happins. But come through anyway," he instructed as he marched into his consulting room.

"It's Chuppins. He's Hal _Chuppins_," Zarie corrected as they followed him in.

"Whatever. You're the American tourist here for your blood pressure check. Correct?"

"Yes, sir that is indeed why I'm here this fine morning. The Good Lord certainly blessed this part of the world when he created it didn't he? Y'all must feel pretty lucky living here," Hal said in his usual friendly way.

The doctor just grunted at him as he busied himself with getting the equipment he required ready.

"Take a seat. Roll up your sleeve," he instructed.

Hal and Zarie sat themselves on the two uncomfortable chairs in front of the desk, and Hal set about rolling his sleeve up.

"Have you been drinking plenty of fluids as I advised?" Martin enquired as he placed the cuff around Hal's arm ready to check his blood pressure.

"Oh yes, Dr. Ellingh_aam_," Zarie drawled. "I made sure of that, don't you worry."

"And how have you been feeling? Any more syncopal episodes?"

"No, I've been feeling just fine. Say, that is a fine little fella you've gotten yourself there. The baby I mean," Hal said.

Martin ignored him as he concentrated on checking the blood pressure readings.

Hal opened his mouth to speak again, but a quick 'Sshh' from Martin silenced him until he'd completed his examination.

"Your blood pressure is within the normal range. You may go. Call back here this evening at six and I'll check it again. Don't overdue things, keep drinking plenty of water, and you should be fine."

"Sorry if we upset your routine with your wife and baby this morning. You know we really wouldn't have minded waiting while you helped her out. We're real easy going folk," Hal said, carefully watching the doctor's response as he rolled down his sleeve.

"None of your business. But in any case I have a full surgery list this morning, so I have to get on," snapped Dr. Ellingham.

"You know Doc, sharing yourself with your partner is a lifelong process, and not something you can finish just so you can 'get on'," Hal said quietly, as he and Zarie got up and made their way out.

Dr. Ellingham just stood and stared after them, before gathering himself again.

"Bloody yanks," he muttered to himself.


	4. Chapter 4

**An Interesting Man**

**By Portwenn Hydra**

**Author's Note: Doc Martin and all of its characters, themes and plotlines are the property of Buffalo Pictures. This work of fiction is written for purely entertainment purposes and no infringement of legal rights is intended. Portions of this story are written from the perspective of a tourist from the United States, and there are many "Americanisms" in the story. We ask your indulgence.**

Chapter 4

"What did you say?" spluttered Zarie as she whipped around to stare at Martin. He had the grace to blush as Hal took his wife's arm and pulled her into the reception. She hissed "Bloody yanks indeed. Hal, let's get out of here."

She wanted nothing more than to put a load of distance between the ill-mannered doctor and herself, when the front door suddenly swung open. Morwenna barreled in, appearing frazzled with bits of hair flying loose from its clips and out of breath. Hal noted that her outfit was even more outlandish then the day before- her sleeveless top had small, multicolored rhinestones sewn haphazardly across its front and she wore stocking with wide strips that would have been at home in the closet of a circus performer.

She waved at them and said, "I'm late, again. He'll have my head for that." She tossed her bag on the ground next to her chair, and turned on the computer. "Has he seen you yet?" she asked.

"Yes," answered Zarie tersely.

Morwenna looked up and saw the aggrieved expression on Zarie's face. "Was he rude? I wouldn't worry, he's like that with everyone. Well almost everyone." Morwenna pointedly looked above Hal's shoulder, and they both turned to see the Louisa coming down the stairs, holding James Henry. He was squirming to get down as any active one year old child is wont to do, but she held on to him, to his great displeasure. Louisa smiled at the two Americans and said over the baby's cries, "Hello again. I hope Martin was able to give you a clean bill of health."

"I am doing fine, thanks for asking. Your husband is a very good doctor, Mrs. Ellingham," answered Hal.

"Oh, please call me Louisa." Her married name still sounds a little foreign to her ears, even after being married for these past six months. It also reminded her of Margaret Ellingham, Martin's horrid mother who she had met only once, a few months before their wedding. She was thankful to have had very little contact with her mother in law, and she knew that Martin wanted to keep it this way as he believed nothing good would come of having his mother involved in their lives.

James Henry had wrestled himself from Louisa's arms and was now crawling across the reception floor to Morwenna's desk. Louisa lunged after him and said, "I'll be late for work again! Morwenna, can you mind him for a few minutes while I get my work bag sorted out?"

Morwenna rolled her eyes as the baby grabbed the edge of her desk and pulled himself up. "Fine. Come here you little terror," she said as the phone rang. She picked up the receiver while trying to keep James from pulling at a stack of patient files and overturning a cup filled with pens.

Zarie momentarily overcame her ire at Martin's uncouth remark about their nationality and smiled at James as she scooped him up in her arms.

"What a sweet baby," she said, inhaling the long forgotten scent of baby soap and shampoo. At first, James doesn't know what to make of this strange woman, but he started to giggle when she made funny faces and tickled his belly.

Hal smiled as he watched Zarie; she's such a natural with children and so longs to be a grandmother. Unfortunately, their children don't seem to be ready to embark on the child rearing phase of their lives, to both their chagrin.

Zarie pointed to the jumble of items on Morwenna's desk while sounding them out, one by one. But the baby's gaze is fixed on a stuffed bear sitting on the shelf next to the receptionist's desk, and his little hands reached for it before Zarie could stop him.

"It's okay, he can have that," said Morwenna as she hangs up the phone. "I keep it up there for him."

James triumphantly waved the bear around and puts a well-worn ear in his mouth as Louisa rounded the corner into the reception. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Zaire with James, and felt a pang of longing for her own mother. Don't be foolish, she chided herself, Eleanor would never take that kind of interest in her grandchild. She pushed the thought out of her mind and dropped her document case and the baby's changing bag next to the push chair sitting near the front door.

"Come here little man, Mummy has to get to work. Thank you for looking after him," she said, as Zaire reluctantly handed the baby to Louisa.

"Here you go ma'am. Do you need help with the stroller?" Hal asked as he collected the bags and handed them to Louisa.

She looked at him curiously and answered, "The what? Oh, you mean the pushchair. Well, it would be big help if you could hold the door open for us." She gave Hal a brilliant smile as he helped her jostle the pushchair over the high threshold and onto the stone terrace in front of the surgery.

He waved goodbye, and was about to close the door when he saw an elderly woman slowly coming up the hill, pushing a bicycle with two cage like attachments on either side. Her mismatched clothes seemed to have been culled from the remnants of a church rummage sale and her hair appeared to have not seen the business end of a comb in recent memory.

Louisa gave the cat lady of Port Wenn a wide berth and hurried down the hill without a backward glance. Mrs. Dingley glared at her, but didn't say anything as she leaned her bicycle against the surgery wall. Her rheumy eyes shifted to the stranger standing by the door and she asked in a thin, reedy voice, "Is the doctor in?"

"Yes, he is. Here, let me help you." Hal gently took her arm, helping her over the threshold and into the surgery.

Morwenna scowled at the new arrival and said with open contempt, "You again! What is it this time?"

"It's my leg. It won't stop bleeding," said Mrs. Dingley plaintively as she pointed to the cloth tied around her right shin. Morwenna craned her neck and grimaced at the blood saturating through the fabric; it trickled down her leg, adding an element of color to the dirty white socks bunched around her ankles.

"Doc, you've got an emergency!" yelled Morwenna.

Zarie came to stand next to Hal and said, "Don't you worry, ma'am. I believe the doctor will take good care of you."

"He will," the older woman snorted, "but not before he gives me an earful, the tosser."

Martin strode briskly into the reception and snapped, "Right you are, Mrs. Dingley. You're disrupting my surgery, once again. What seems to be…" He faltered when he saw the blood now spreading to Mrs. Dingely's worn and dirty tennis shoe. He swallowed hard, whirled around and said in a strangled voice, "Come through." Hal peered at Martin curiously; for someone so self-assured, this was unexpected behavior indeed.

"Try not to throw up on me, Doc," sneered Mrs. Dingley as she hobbled after him and climbed on the exam couch with Hal's help. Zarie stood in the doorway, having not yet forgiven Martin for his rude remark earlier while Hal wondered why the doctor would be sick at the sight of this woman's wound.

"What have you done to yourself this time?" asked Martin as he rolled the supply cart across the room, careful to keep his gaze away from Mrs. Dingley's leg.

She pulled at the bloody cloth and it fell to the ground revealing two large, deep gashes surrounded by a large amount of bruising.

Martin slipped on a pair of vinyl gloves, almost too small for his large hands, and took a deep breath before approaching his patient. Hal was standing close enough to notice the beads of sweat pooling on the doctor's brow and that his face had acquired an unhealthy pallor. Nevertheless, the doctor sat across from Mrs. Dingley, and started to probe the wound with a gloved finger.

"This wasn't done by a cat," Martin said curtly.

"Good for you, Sherlock. It was a goat, if you must know. The poor thing bit me when my tabby, Mr. Abe, took his claws to its back side."

"Are you keeping goats now? You can barely take care of that hoard of filthy cats," he answered pulling at the drawers of the medical cart before finding a syringe and a bottle of irrigation solution.

"It would be a lot easier to feed those poor cats if the likes of you made a donation once in a while," she said as Martin deftly irrigated the wound.

She winced before continuing, "Those hoity-toity Londoner's are buying up farms up and down the coast, not giving a care as to who will feed their animals when they leave on Sunday to go back to their posh lives in the city. So now I've got to take in cats _and _farm animals, the poor things."

"Be quiet," Martin snapped as he applied a few wound closures to the worse of the injury. Again, Hal noticed how the good doctor cringed when he touched the bloody wound with his gloved hands. How peculiar, he thought.

Mrs. Dingley ignored Martin and gave Hal her most beguiling smile. "You look like a nice man. Could you leave a donation with the receptionist? The kitties, goats and chickens would be most appreciative. "

Hal was about to reply that he would be happy to, when Martin glared at him and said, "Why are you still here?"

Zarie answered from the doorway, "Hal was just helping…"

"I don't need help. Get out and close the door behind you."

Hal and Zarie quickly did as they were told. The reception was quickly filling up with patients, and there were quite a few grumbles when Morwenna told them the doctor was in with an emergency and they would have to wait to be seen.

She had just finished checking in another disgruntled patient when Hal walked up and handed her a few five pound notes.

"Honey, can you please give this to the nice lady that takes care of the animals?"

"Mrs. Dingley? I wouldn't encourage her if I were you. The Doc says she's not well enough to keep up that place of hers. It would be better for her to sell, he says, and move closer to the village."

"Really?" said Hal, perplexed. This man was a bevy of contradictions, barking and snapping at his patients while harboring concern for their welfare.

Zarie could read the look on Hal's face, one that she had come to know well over the many years of their marriage. He was fascinated by this doctor, and would not stop ruminating about what made him tick until he had it figured out. That's what had made him such an outstanding social worker, but she wished for once he could set his training aside so they could enjoy their vacation without any distractions.

Zarie took her husband's hand and said, "Come on Hal. The day and the Choughs won't wait."

They left the surgery and walked down Roscarrock hill to the Platt, where a bus was waiting to take the amassed birders to the Chough's nesting site. Hal ran into the green grocer to get a few bottles of water and two Cornish pasties for their lunch before climbing aboard in a state of high anticipation; someone had reported a small raft of Manx Shearwaters feeding close to the shore and he looked forward to adding another bird to his life list.

It was one of those glorious days, the kind one dreams of on dark, cold winter nights. The clear blue sky was dotted with puffy white clouds floating lazily above the sparkling sea and a cool breeze ruffled through the purple moor grass bunched along the cliff.

Hal and Zarie trained their binoculars on the very obliging Choughs and Shearwaters, who stayed within eyeshot for most of the morning to the delight of the birders and Sir David Attenborough, who was filming the action with the help of his crew.

It was time to take a break for lunch, and Zarie had scouted a sheltered spot under a stone outcropping a little ways from the crowds. She worried that Hal was overdoing it and wanted him to rest before they moved up the coast to look for old world warblers, the likes they would never have a hope to see back home.

As they started on their pasties, they heard foot-steps on the gravel path leading to their secluded lunch spot. They both turned, as the nurse who had helped Hal the day before came into view. She stopped short and was about to apologize for intruding but instead smiled warmly when she recognized the American couple.

"We meet again. I'm Kathy, the nurse with the film crew. I hope you're feeling better," she said, looking at Hal.

"I'm feeling great. We never had the chance to thank you properly for your help. Won't you join us? There's lots of room."

"Are you sure? I don't want to intrude," she said, shifting the insulated lunch bag she was holding to her other hand.

Zarie patted the expanse of flat stone next to her and said "Don't be silly. Please come and sit."

"Well thank you. This is one of my favorite spots." said Kathy, as she took a sandwich out of her bag. She took a bit before asking, "How did it go with the Port Wenn GP?"

Hal gave her a thoughtful look before answering, "He's a very good doctor, but he has an interesting bedside manner."

"You mean he has none," retorted Zarie.

Kathy nodded. "That, he doesn't. But you're right in saying he's a good doctor. The village is lucky to have him, grumpiness and all." She remembered the few times she had dealings with Dr. Ellingham at the Royal Cornwall in Truro. The man was arrogant and rude, but he had saved her patient's life after the surgical consultant had missed the signs of a life threatening splenic rupture. Since then, she had developed a grudging admiration for this doctor despite his appalling attitude towards both the staff and patients.

"How did he end up here, practicing as a GP when he's trained as a surgeon?" asked Zarie curiously.

Kathy hesitated before answering; she was a minister's wife and had no patience for gossip of any kind. On the other hand, Dr. Ellingham's story was common knowledge up and down the coast, so there was really no harm in telling these two what she knew about him.

"He had to stop performing surgery because the sight of blood makes him ill," said Kathy quietly. "Too bad really, because I hear he was a brilliant surgeon. I always thought it was strange that he chose to move to Cornwall until my mum reminded me that he summered here as a child, on the farm owned by his aunt Joan and Uncle Phil. They've both since died, but Joan's sister lives there now. You must have passed the farm on your way here today."

Zarie could see Hal was listening intently to the nurse as she recounted the story of the bad-tempered GP of Port Wenn. He nodded but didn't say anything as some of the pieces of the puzzle fell into place; the doctor's reaction to his patient's bloody wound and the harsh words he had with his wife that morning were starting to make sense. Hal felt pity for the doctor but quickly suppressed it; this was not a man who would accept pity from anyone. At least he has an aunt living nearby, thought Hal, and she might be able to offer a measure of comfort to her troubled nephew. But would he accept it?

Zarie handed Hal a bottle of water and said to Kathy, "We met his wife and son today. She's a peach and the baby is the sweetest thing."

"We were all shocked when these two got together and produced a child. I guess the saying that opposites attract is true in this case," she said as she gathered the remains of her lunch. "I better get back to work. This crew is uncannily accident prone and has kept me very busy these past few weeks."

Hal and Zarie thanked Kathy again for all her help, and waved goodbye as she disappeared up the steep path.

XxX

At the end of the day, the bus carried a group of tired but happy birders back to Port Wenn. They milled around the Platt, comparing notes and talking excited about the birds they hope to see the next day. The sun was still high in the sky, but a bank of dark clouds had gathered off the coast and the wind was kicking up, blowing Hal's hat clear across the Platt. Zarie ran after it and said as she handed it to him, "It's almost six o'clock. We better not be late for your appointment with the doctor."

They quickly made plans to meet with their friends for dinner and hurried up the hill to the field stone cottage that served as the doctor's home and office.

The wind was blowing even harder, and the sun had disappeared behind the clouds now scudding overhead as they arrived at the surgery. The door was unlocked and they stepped inside to find the reception empty save for Morwenna who was getting ready to leave for the day. She gave them a bright smile and said, "There you are. The Doc said to go through when you got here."

They thanked her, and made their way to the consulting room. Through the half open door, Hal saw Martin sitting at his desk, his hand holding a pen poised over a sheet of paper. His head was turned towards the window, and he appeared not to have heard them come into the surgery. Hal lightly knocked on the door and said, "Dr. Ellingham?"

Martin started when he saw the couple in the doorway but recovered quickly. He dropped the pen on his desk and said curtly, "You're late."

"No were not!" exclaimed Zarie. Hal put a hand on her arm to quiet her and went to sit on the exam coach. Martin wordlessly gathered the necessary equipment and proceeded to take Hal's blood pressure as Zarie watched anxiously from across the room.

"Have you had any episodes of dizziness today?" asked Martin as he removed the cuff from Hal's arm.

Hal gave Zarie a guilty look before answering, "Maybe once or twice, but it came and went quickly and I never felt like passing out."

Zarie hurried to his side. "Hal, how could you not tell me about this? You know I worry…"

Martin put up his hand and said tersely, "Be quiet. Mr. Chapin…"

"It's Chuppins," said Zarie, irritably.

"Whatever. You need to stop taking the diuretic. It's making your blood pressure drop and hence the episodes of dizziness. I'll check it again tomorrow morning. In the meantime, drink plenty of water and get some rest."

Martin went to his desk and was about tell them they were done, when a loud clap of thunder rattled the windows of the surgery. The lights flickered off and on, and a gust of wind buffeted the ancient stone walls as the front door opened with a resounding bang.

"Martin, I could use some help here," called Louisa as she struggled to pull the pushchair over the threshold and away from the rain that fell in fat droplets on the stone terrace. James Henry was crying with fright as the thunder continued to ominously rumble overhead and a jag of lightning momentarily brightened the now darkened summer skies.

Martin hurried from the consulting room with Hal and Zarie at his heels. Another clap of thunder followed by lightning caused James Henry to scream and hide his tear stained face in the blanket clutched in his little hands. Martin quickly reached for his son and snuggled him against his chest, all the while murmuring soothingly that everything will be alright, it's just a summer storm and will pass in a few minutes.

Hal watched as this grumpy, rude and arrogant man lovingly comforted his child, and thought he had been right to suspect there was more to this doctor that first met the eye.

In the commotion, Louisa had dropped a package on the floor and Zarie bent down to retrieve it.

"Thank you," said Louisa as she took it from her, "I better get this to the kitchen before it spoils."

Martin turned to Louisa as he jiggled a much calmer James Henry in his arms. "Is that fish? I told you this morning that I was going to the fishmongers for our supper."

Hal noticed Louisa tense as she answered, "I mustn't have heard you. It's not the end of the world, Martin."

"You could freeze the extra fish. That's what we do at home," said Zarie.

"We don't have a freezer," retorted Martin in a way that suggested it was the devil's implement.

Louisa looked from Martin to Hal and Zarie. She suddenly smiled brightly and said, "Why don't you stay for dinner? There's certainly enough fish and I have a nice bottle of Pinot Gris cooling in the fridge. Anyhow, you can't leave in a middle of a thunder storm."

Martin was about ask Louisa if she was out of her mind, inviting two perfect strangers to stay for dinner when a brilliant flash of lightning tore across the sky, followed by an explosion and then, darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Doc Martin and all of its characters, themes and plotlines are the property of Buffalo Pictures. This work of fiction is written for purely entertainment purposes and no infringement of legal rights is intended. Portions of this story are written from the perspective of a tourist from the United States, and there are many "Americanisms" in the story. We ask your indulgence. **

Chapter 5

"Power fault!" yelled out Martin. "Again! Louisa can you get out the candles?" he cradled the baby who was now howling. "There, there," he said patting the baby's back. "Not to worry." He bent and kissed the child's head who then started to quiet. From the look on Martin's face he gained solace as much as the baby did.

"Here," came Hal's voice as a beam of actinic light pierced the gloom.

"Oh, you have a torch. Brilliant!" Louisa exclaimed.

"On my key ring," their visitor said. "One of those mini-LED jobs."

"Trust an _American_ to be prepared," mumbled Martin but was glad to have light while Louisa took out candles and matches.

Zarie asked, "This happen a lot?"

"Not that often," Louisa told her, "but with a storm like this one, can't be sure how long it might last. There," she said having set two lit candles on the kitchen table and one on the counter.

Martin came back from the front window, still carrying the baby. "Almost dark as pitch out there," he grunted. "And the rain is absolutely horizontal. God knows how long the power may be out." He wrinkled his nose at their house guests.

Louisa cowered as more thunder boomed overhead. "If the weather that's bad… you should stay. These storms can last five minutes or a whole day. Coastal weather can change a lot."

"It's been beautiful since we got here, though." Zarie peered at the window where rain covered the panes. "Gawd look at the rain. I guess we could stay for dinner." She caught the wink that Hal gave her. "

"That would be nice; we can help out travelers to our little village, Martin," Louisa beamed. "But so much for cooking."

"Why's that? You have gas, right?" asked Zarie. "Just light the burner."

Hal nodded his head. "If your range is older model, shouldn't be a problem. No fancy interlocks."

"Range? What's that?" Louisa asked.

"What you cook and bake on?" Hal pointed to the stove. "That thing."

Louisa laughed. "We call it a cooker. And it's only electric."

Hal and Zarie exchanged puzzled looks. "When in Rome," he said. He was starting to poke at the controls when the lights flashed back on. "Oh, the electricity seems to have come back."

Martin pushed him aside and adjusted the controls to preheat the oven. "Let's get the fish and potatoes going, shall we?"

Even with the power back on, Louisa left the lights off and the candles lit, the small eat-in kitchen filled with a warm yellow glow by three tall candles.

XxX

The baked monkfish, red potatoes, and Brussels sprouts were excellent followed by an apple, raspberry, and blackberry crumble, plus coffee, although Martin declined the dessert. "Too many calories," he opined, quaffing from a tall glass of water.

Louisa gave her husband one of her many wide-eyed startled looks which Hal and Zarie could not but help notice. She'd been doing it every time Martin gruffly made a critical comment. He didn't do it all the time, but certainly enough to notice. Louisa tended to divert those comments by various means; a laugh or a joke, or even a mild rebuke, but the Americans could see that all was not well on the home front.

Louisa finished her wine, the Pinot Gris a lovely accessory to the meal then poured another half glass for herself. "Zarie? More?" she asked.

"No thank you. I'm fine," Zarie said. "Hal?"

"No thanks," her husband said. "Probably shouldn't have more than one glass."

"That's wise," Martin added.

Zarie had helped to feed the baby and was now holding the boy on her lap, playing peek-a-boo. Her last activity left the baby gleefully chuckling. "Oh, you are a good little boy, aren't you?" she bent her head and kissed his downy cheek. "I hope you don't mind. He's so sweet. We don't have grandchildren, yet. Someday, we hope."

"Thanks," smiled his mum. "He is good, mostly. But gets into everything, especially now that he's starting to walk. James got into Martin's tools the other night and made a mess."

"Oh dear. I hope not your doctor's things," said Zarie.

"No," Martin responded. "My… clock tools. I like to repair clocks."

Hal smiled. "Oh, you do? I like to repair lawn mower engines. A little larger than a clock."

Martin turned his head a fraction towards Hal. "Machinery none the less."

"So doctor, these clocks, a real hobby?" Hal asked. "My wife likes to make furniture."

"Oh? A lady carpenter. Do tell," Martin sighed. "And not really a hobby. More of a challenge."

"Martin used to work on clocks quite a bit," Louisa answered brightly, "until _other things_ occupied his time." She reached out and held Martin's arm, who then touched her hand briefly.

Martin coughed. "Right."

A pregnant pause fell over the gathering interrupted by Zarie's nose detecting something. "I think this little one needs a new diaper."

Louisa gave her a puzzled look. "Oh, you mean nappy."

Martin stood and swept the child into his arms. "I'll just go and change him."

Zarie reluctantly released the baby. "Alright."

Martin strode away cuddling the child and Louisa watched him go with a fond expression. "Suppose I'd better get on those soiled dishes," she said.

Hal jumped up. "Please let me help?"

Louisa grinned. "I do like that; a man who helps out, I mean. Martin is quite particular about cleanliness; germs and all that."

Hal swept the plates and glasses away and scraped any crumbs into the sieve provided and rinsed the plates. He peered out the window where the rain still poured away, occasional wind gusts shaking the cottage. "Quite a storm, out there. A real frog strangler."

Louisa handed him the baking sheet that held the fish. "You should be here in the winter. The wind can go right through to your bones. But when we get a stretch of great weather, makes up for it."

Zarie drank the last of her coffee. "You're a villager then?"

Louisa laughed. "Born and bred. My whole life, other than university and another time in London." Louisa sighed. "Somehow I always came back. Home, you know?"

Hal saw tension on her face. "So, how are things going between the two of you? You and Martin? None of my business but it does seem that you and he…"

"Whatcha' mean?" Louisa asked quickly. "Oh we're fine. _Fine_." Her voice was firm but her eyes betrayed quite different feelings.

"Maybe you aren't always on the same page, maybe not even in the same book?" Hal continued. "I do counseling you see; mostly youths and young people."

Louisa's face fell. "I suppose it might look like that. But most don't see what I see in Martin," she sighed. "He is…"

Zarie gave her cup and saucer to her husband. "Hal, I don't think you should be asking things like that. For Heaven's sake!"

Louisa turned a pale face to her. "No. No it's ok. Really."

Hal took the hint and backed off. "What say I get these dishes washed? At least let me help out?" He stood and ran water into the sink and added detergent.

Heavy footsteps descended and Martin returned with their child. "A new nappy and a winding." He gave James to Louisa and seeing Hal with hands in suds bristled. "Uhm… I do the washing up."

"Let me help?" Hal asked. "You can dry. I'll wash."

Zarie laughed. "I never imagined Hal would be washing dishes on this vacation. He usually does them at home. I do most of the cooking. That meal was delicious, Louisa. Thank you for feeding us."

"Our pleasure," said the hostess. "Zarie, what say you and I get out of the way and let these two fellows wash up?" She led Zarie into the lounge where they sat on the on the sofa and started discussing children and teaching. James sat near them playing with stacking blocks on the wool carpet on the slate floor.

Martin wrinkled his nose at the grey-haired and bearded American who had plunged his hands into soapy water and began to scrub on a plate with a dishcloth. Martin tied an apron about his waist over his blue suit up to the armpits; still resplendent in white shirt, red tie and black shoes so polished they glowed.

"No dishwasher?" Hal asked. He looked at his dish washing teammate and knew they made an odd pair. He was wearing a photographer's vest covered with pockets and pouches over a long sleeved red-and-white striped golf shirt, along with khaki cargo pants finishing with hiking boots and heavy socks.

"Used to have one," replied Martin. "But… it… broke."

"Ah. Hard to get parts here out in the country?"

Martin looked over his shoulder at his wife, who had uttered a tiny laugh hearing Hal's comment. "No. It… got… erh… contaminated. Long story," the doctor said. "Off to the rubbish tip it went."

"Oh. So then, quite a change for you? I heard you used to practice in London." Hal whispered.

Martin nodded. "Yes," he answered warily.

"And you were a surgeon. I heard you're quite handy to have here in Portwenn. Picked up a couple of stories of you saving lives out here with those surgical skills."

"The village is far from hospital," Martin answered evenly, unsure if this was praise or criticism.

"_Very_ handy." Hal washed another plate. "Folks must like that, you having those skills."

Martin sighed. "Use plenty of hot water to rinse, please."

Hal ran the water over the next cleaned plate for a few more seconds. "Better?"

"Sufficient," Martin muttered.

Hal was wondering how to bring up what his people radar was telling him. Martin was damaged goods, whether from his blood phobia or other things, and he knew there was precious little time to delve into those depths. "You know, my wife and I are very grateful for the help and not just the dinner either. Far from home when I fainted." He'd decided to stick to firm ground.

Martin inclined his head. "Doing my job. Stick to my medical directions and you'll be fine. You should also see your GP upon your return home."

"I will. I will. But, Martin, you're more than just that. In those stories you _do_ care more than just for the medicine. Like that Mrs. Dingley; beyond just her wound care."

"Woman's a menace and a beggar," Martin snorted. "She'd be better off throwing in the towel on her animal rescue place. The woman can barely afford to feed herself let alone a herd of mangy flea-bitten dogs and cats. She can barely feed herself."

Hal washed another plate, despite hearing the derision Martin was saying something else too. "Yet she does need help and you gave it to her."

"Just doing my job."

Hal looked at the women happily playing with the baby. "And it was very nice of you to have us stay for dinner."

Martin ducked his head while taking the freshly rinsed plate, drying it efficiently. "It pleased Louisa."

"Really? She did jump at the chance. Unlike you."

"Look Mr. Chapin…"

"It's Chuppins, but please call me Hal?"

"Hal, then. I… really… don't associate with the village. Louisa's our Head Teacher. She has to deal with these people everyday. She seems to like it."

Hal looked Martin in the eye. "But you don't."

Martin ignored the remark. "Don't forget the baking tray and the utensils. Make sure you wash them well. Fish oil is tenacious."

Hal smiled hearing the last word. _Tenacious_. A word that described his nature. "Of course. You've lived here how long?"

"Five years."

"Do you ever wonder what might have happened if you hadn't come to live here? Never left London? That little son of yours would not exist and your wife would be – _not_ your wife."

Martin gave Hal a fishy stare. "I think about that often."

"Ah." Hal washed another plate. "Zarie and I have three kids – I mentioned that. Been together a very long time. But we're happy and we're not perfect – no one is."

"Your point being?" Martin held out a hand for the next plate.

Hal held out the plate, which Martin grasped, yet Hall held on to it; the china now in a strange tug of war. "My point, doctor, is that we all have second thoughts. Buyer's remorse. You buy a car or a new television, and you think – Gee, was that the right thing to do? Should I have waited? That sort of thing."

"I don't watch the telly," the doctor told him. "Louisa watches some mysteries, science fiction – God knows why."

"Marriage doesn't solve everything, Martin," Hal told him softly. "But it gives a framework for your life. It did for me." He still held the plate and felt the tension transmitted back through it from Martin's grip. "And it let's someone see us as we _really_ are." He released the plate. "I have seen the way you interact with your son. The thunder scared him and you swept him up to calm him. I think that fancy suit of your hides a real man."

Martin held the plate now, towel poised to dry, yet was unmoving. Was that true, he wondered? Was this mad Yank speaking any truth, or was he a meddler? "What's a real man, then, in your estimation?"

Hal could tell he held Martin's interest. "One who is not afraid to have faults, fears, and uncertainties." He sniffed. "We're _all_ the same Martin. None of us is invincible, try as we might. Even armor plate can be penetrated with the right projectile. I was in the Army, I know that."

Martin slowly dried the plate methodically; front, back, the edges, finishing with a final wipe of the front. Armor? He said _armor_. He exhaled noisily. He did have cracks in his armor.

Hal kept speaking. "Now you're a married man and a dad. I think you get a lot more respect in this village by being those, you know. But just being married doesn't solve everything."

Martin stacked the clean plate taking care not to chip the edge, his face in a wary look.

"A marriage isn't like fixing a busted clock. That's challenging, I know," the American went on. "But it's only a machine. Like a lawn mower, it does take a certain skill. But people," he sighed, "they're different. And remember! You can catch more flies with honey than you can with horse manure!"

"You were telling me," Martin said. "About the people."

"But now to a certain _person_. And I'll bet you didn't win _her_ heart," Hal nodded towards Louisa, "by treating her like a broken clock. She seems very nice to me, and maybe you are too, just in your own way." He saw his wife smiling at him and he smiled back at her. "Your wife clearly loves you _very much_. Don't forget that you have to be a team, both inside and outside the house." He chuckled. "And the bedroom."

Martin looked at Hal horrified; not quite believing the man was giving him counseling and that the village GP was actually listening. Yet this bearded Yank seemed ever so much more _credible_ than the mad Mr. Porter of the pigs and the rotten advice which led to _no_ wedding on a certain day.

The American went on. "I'll wager that in London, everything was perfect. You had the perfect job, perfect apartment, plus a perfect girlfriend, right?"

"No," Martin rolled his eyes and looked away. "Not quite."

"Ah. I thought not. So why do you seem to be trying to distance yourself from this village, your wife, and your son? The villagers depend on you, and they do respect you, in spite of your obvious," he coughed, "unique ways of dealing with them. So why do you send out such awful verbal and body language messages that you hate the town, the people, your wife _and_ your son?" Hal wrapped things up thinking that he might just get punched by the tall doctor.

"I… that's not fair…" Martin stuttered. "It's not like that at all!"

Hal held out the cleaned baking tray to him. "Oh? Ask yourself. Would you be better off back there – in London? Or right here? Would you rather throw away the five years you have invested here – and in _her_?" He cocked his head at the dark-haired teacher with the blue eyes. "Or do you consider yourself an exile of some sort?"

Martin was shocked as the American had bored straight into his heart. _Exile_? Was Port Wenn a place of exile – a place of punishment? Is that what he actually felt? He blew out a long breath. "No Port Wenn is… fine." He'd heard plenty of advice, both asked for and uninvited over the years. It came from Mark Mylow, Penhale, Bert and Al Large, Roger Fenn, Pauline, Morwenna, and any number of others had all bent his ear and he'd rejected each and every one of their words, mostly because he was stubborn; an Ellingham through and through. Yet for some reason this American was making sense.

"Ah. Thought so," Hal smiled. "You see, I am a minister too. I perform weddings and part of my routine is to do marriage counseling – _before_ the wedding."

"Oh," Martin's voice fell. Blast! He's a bloody minister, he thought, his temper flaring.

"And after, occasionally."

"I see." Martin dried the tray and squared his shoulders and faced Chuppins. "I _do_ see."

Hal turned slightly. "You can take my advice, for what's it worth. It could be a lot of hot air or may just have struck a chord. Your decision."

Martin stood still for a few seconds thinking very hard. Finally his lips parted. "I'll think about it."

"That's great, Martin!" Hal clapped him on the shoulder and he felt the man jump at the touch.

Martin glanced down at Hal. This American had said almost exactly what he had been thinking since the morning's blowup over James' care and getting ready for work. It was true, mostly. "You're very good, you know," he spoke softly. "Very good."

"Well, I do have plenty of experience in washing dishes!"

"That's not what I meant," Martin whispered. "Erhm, we still have the utensils to wash."

Hal nodded. "So we do. Teamwork right?"

"Right," said Martin, but he smiled.

"And," Hal added, "Marriage is not a fairy tale."

"A fairy story," echoed Martin.

"Not all sweetness and light. There are issues and problems, but when the sun comes out… well, it can be wonderful, but you know that."

Martin nodded his head. "It can be."

"Besides, doc, sometimes the fairy story is all backward. Have you thought that instead of the knight in shining armor saving the maiden from the tower, that _your_ story is the beautiful princess has come to free the ogre, being held captive in the dungeon? And the ogre has had a spell cast on him that makes him seem like a monster to everyone, except the one who loves him?"

Martin lowered the tea towel to the counter and removed his apron. "We're through," he said trying to keep his voice level. Most of what the man said was rubbish, but still, there was the ring of truth about it.

Hal sighed. "Ok." He's done all he could do over a sink of dirty dishes. The rest was up to Martin _and_ Louisa.

XxX

Louisa smiled at the dark haired American woman who was so very likeable. Zarie was telling her about Hal's work as a licensed minister and his social work. They went on to comparing Zarie's teaching experiences with Louisa's. Despite different countries and policies, children and parents were the same.

All the while, little James was now orbiting the table, as babies do at his age, walking around and around like a prisoner on a treadmill, yet holding on for dear life to the wood.

Louisa found herself warming to the American woman, her slight country accent not that different in some ways from her own Cornwall accent.

Zarie was finishing telling a tale of a particularly difficult matter with a troubled youth – who had been counseled by Hal – and Zarie then had to deal with his parents about school. "So there we were, all packed into my office. The boy, his parents and teachers, the truant officer, and Hal," Zarie exclaimed, "when the boy started to cry and apologized for everything. That was Hal's doing. He has a way of making people see the truth!"

Louisa looked into the kitchen and saw Martin turn his head and look straight at her. He caught her eye and then actually smiled. The look he gave her made her heart melt.

Zarie caught Louisa's return smile. "You know, sweetheart, I was thinking seeing the kerfuffle this morning – about you and Martin trying to get the baby ready."

"Yes," Louisa said.

"Could your husband open his office fifteen minutes later? Pretty obvious it's a three-ring circus every weekday. If he'd start a little later, that would give the two of you a chance to get James ready. Then you'd have a few extra minutes to start the day and not be, well, not quite so upset?"

"Hm." Louisa's face glowed thinking how that might work.

"And then if there's a problem, and there usually is with babies and little kids, you'd have that extra few minutes to deal with it. And even have time for a hug and kiss before you part for the day?"

Louisa turned an amazed look at her guest. "That's a _very_ good idea. I hadn't thought of that."

"Good." Zarie patted Louisa's hand happily.

"Yeah," said Louisa slowly. "I'm so glad you stayed for dinner."

"Me too."

The men came into the lounge. "We're finished," Martin announced.

"So," said Louisa brightly, "how are the Choughs? All excited to see our rare Cornish birds?"

"Thrilling!" Zarie exclaimed. "When Hal read that the Choughs were having a banner year of hatchlings we just had to come."

Martin sneered. "I don't know why people get so excited about birds. They're noisy and dirty."

Hal whirled on the doctor. "No! They're marvelous! Fantastic! Such rare birds and there they are, fifteen yards away from us this morning!"

Louisa chuckled. "Certainly a lot of buzz about them. I've seen the birds at a distance but never that close."

Hal sighed contentedly. "I really am so glad that we came here."

Zarie reached out and took her husband's hand. "One of our dreams."

"Bloody nightmare," muttered Martin.

"I wouldn't say that Martin. Have you ever seen Choughs up close?" Hal asked.

Martin's face fell. "Not exactly…" he cleared his throat. "I was rather busy at the time."

"Would you like to tell us about it? I bet it was thrilling!" said Hal encouragingly.

"Oh God," sighed the GP of Port Wenn.


	6. Chapter 6

**An Interesting Man**

**By Portwenn Hydra**

Author's Note: Doc Martin and all of its characters, themes and plotlines are the property of Buffalo Pictures. This work of fiction is written for purely entertainment purposes and no infringement of legal rights is intended. Portions of this story are written from the perspective of a tourist from the United States, and there are many "Americanisms" in the story. We ask your indulgence.

**Chapter 6**

Hal had no idea what he was unleashing when he asked Martin if he'd ever seen the Chough's up close. Certainly not the animated rush that came next.

"You see there was this mad baker who was trying to steal the Chough's eggs . . ." began Louisa.

"Bloody idiot! He had no idea of proper hygiene – infected himself and could have laid the whole village low with a bacterial infection from all those bird feces . . ." Martin continued, disgust evident in his tone.

"He climbed down the cliff to get the eggs – they're valuable you know -"

"When the moron fell down the cliff and sustained a serious subdural hematoma. . ."

"And Martin was brilliant, just brilliant! He rappelled down that cliff like it was a walk in the park so he could save his patient. And all he had was a power drill and a bungee cord." Louisa was clearly bursting with pride as she gave her husband a pat on his hand.

"Didn't have much choice, did I – no other medical help within fifty miles of that place." His voice was a little gruff, but his face softened as he placed his hand on top of hers. "Plus there was the gun."

"And the mental patient off his meds . . ."

"And don't forget your father . . ."

"No, or Bert Large . . ."

"Bert!" exclaimed Zarie. "That nice man who runs the restaurant?"

"Yes but he was still a plumber, then," explained Louisa.

"Not that he was any better at that than he is at running a restaurant," grumbled Martin.

"And Pauline was there too, of course . . ."

"And Al with that blasted boat . . ."

"AND THE MYSTERIOUS PACKAGE FROM SPAIN!" they both exclaimed in unison, Louisa bubbling over with laughter and Martin smiling just a little.

Hal and Zarie looked at each other, thoroughly bewildered by the story but intrigued by the way the Martin and Louisa had interacted while they told it. The English pair clearly had a shared history and a much deeper bond than initially met the eye. Hal gave Zarie a wink. He had just known in his bones that this couple had something going for them. They could draw on these experiences and memories to build a life together instead of living parallel ones in the same house, he was sure.

"Well that's quite a tale, there," Hal said. "I could see how you might have been a little too busy with all that going on to pay a whole lot of attention to the Choughs. Maybe you'll get another chance. They're mighty pretty birds to watch."

Before Louisa could stop laughing completely or Martin could respond to Hal, Martin's cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his breast pocket, scowled at the screen and swore. "Ellingham!" He answered, his tone curt and clearly exasperated.

Louisa and Zarie had turned their attention back to James Henry, but Hal watched the doctor closely as he took the call. He saw Martin's face grow grave.

"Okay, Al. Have you rung for the ambulance yet? Right, that's good. I don't suppose they told you how long they would be, did they? That long? Hmmm. Tell me where you are." The doctor's voice was steady and clinical now, no sign of the irritation he'd shown just moments before.

He nodded his head as he drew a prescription pad and pen out of his pocket and began writing. "Got that. Is he conscious? I see. Keep him talking. He's likely concussed, so we want to see if we can keep him conscious. Yes, that's right."

"A landslip? Not sure I can get through that in the car. Yes, I see. Well I'll find someone. Just stay calm and keep him talking and I'll be there as soon as I can." With that, Martin ended the call and put his mobile phone away, sighing heavily.

"I have to go out – there's been an accident on the road to the moor. A landslip caused by all the rain from the storm. Al was coming back from Aunt Ruth's and he found Penhale's vehicle flipped over and half covered in mud; we have to see if we can extricate him."

"Oh, Martin!" Louisa exclaimed in dismay. She picked up the baby and held him close. "Is Joe alright?"

Martin was walking away toward his surgery. "I don't know. Al says it looks like he's bleeding from his head and may have other injuries. Plus there's a risk that the car is in an unstable place and that more rain will cause a broader landslip." He turned his head back over his shoulder. "Can you get me a torch, please, and my rain gear?" Louisa nodded, handed James to Zarie, and turned towards the pantry.

Hal sat down on the sofa next to Zarie and James. "A landslip? I wonder what that is. Doesn't sound too good."

"Sounds like a good old Missouri mudslide to me."

Hal nodded. "You're probably right. I heard him say something about not being able to get there in his car – it sounds like the road might be washed out."

"That poor trapped man. I hope he can hang on until help gets there."

Hal nodded and patted Zarie's hand before starting another game of peek-a-boo with James.

When Martin returned to the living room, he was carrying his black medical bag and a portable tool box with a handle. Hal nodded at the practicality. "Anything I can help you with, Martin?"

Martin shook his head. Just then, Louisa returned with a dark green waxed cotton coat and a broad brimmed hat. When Martin took them from her, she handed him his torch.

Martin stopped and took her hand, ignoring the guests. "Listen, Louisa, don't wait up for me. I don't know how long it's going to be – I'm not even sure I can get there in the car. Al says the roads on the moor are being washed out."

She looked distraught. "It won't help for you to get stuck out there in the storm too. Is there anyone who can take you out in a 4 by 4? Maybe I could call Roger? Or the lifeboat crew?"

Hal interrupted. "I have an idea for you. The crew that was filming the Choughs with David Attenborough had a whole fleet of Range Rovers. Those things look like they can get through just about anything. Anyhow, the crew said they were going to be down at the pub tonight – something about a band playing. I'm sure if we go down and ask, one of them will drive you up there."

Martin looked dubious as he struggled into his coat and hat. "It won't be much help if a drunkard runs off the road in a Rover."

"Martin!" Louisa chided. "I'm sure at least some of them are sober. And if they aren't maybe they will let you drive." She turned to Hal. "That's a great idea, Hal. Thanks." She smiled warmly at him.

Martin made a sound of disgust, stooped to give James a kiss on the forehead, and then headed for the door with Hal at his heels.

X

The atmosphere at the Crab and Lobster when Hal and Martin came in out of the storm was raucous as the capacity crowd clapped along to the music of the Fisherman's Friends and the beer was clearly flowing liberally. Hal itched to join in the music – they were singing Pay Me My Money Down, a song Hal could play in his sleep. But tonight was not the night for making music, he reminded himself, thinking of the storm and the mudslide and the poor man he now knew was the village's policeman trapped in his car.

As Hal scanned the crowd for his friends from the film crew, he was startled to see Martin square his shoulders and then stride across the barroom to the makeshift stage. The doctor seemed oblivious to the dirty looks and shouts of Tosser and Killjoy that followed in his wake. Once up at the stage, he grabbed the microphone from the stunned singer, as the crowd jeered and the band gave each other bemused looks.

"Attention, attention," the doctor intoned, his booming baritone amplified by the microphone to a deafening roar. "There has been a landslip out on the road to Bodmin moor. P.C. Penhale was involved in an accident. Many of the roads are reported to be washed out from the storm and it will take the ambulance at least an hour and probably longer to get through from Truro. It is imperative that I find someone sober with access to an off-road vehicle to take me out to the site so I can provide medical treatment." He looked out expectantly, with a little moue of disgust at the smell of beer.

The crowd fell quiet, stunned. Hal was impressed at their reaction – there was immediate concern for the victim and despite having just maligned the doctor, the crowd seemed to take his request very seriously. The film crew driver who had brought Hal and Zarie to Martin's surgery the first day stood up and volunteered to drive out to the accident, followed by several others.

A young blond man who looked like a surfer to Hal shouted, "Look, Doc Martin won't be able to dig Joe out by himself. We need everyone who isn't pie-faced to head out to help. Count me in – I'm too broke to have drunk much. And my truck will fit two more." Hal saw that Martin merely nodded his head once.

There were murmurs of agreement. Hal noticed Morwenna making her way up to Martin. "Hiya Doc. I'll come along,'f ya like. I can be your assistant, like I was for Louisa's mum, or hold a torch or whatever."

Hal found himself volunteering too. "You know I haven't had more than a glass of wine. I can't help with the heavy lifting but there must be something I can do."

"But you're supposed to be resting," Martin protested.

"Who can rest knowing some poor soul is out on the moor, trapped in a mudslide?"

Martin didn't have an answer to that, but he didn't protest when Hal and Morwenna followed him out to the film crew's SUV.

X

It was after midnight when Hal knocked on the kitchen door at the stone cottage on Rosscarrock Hill. Louisa came to the door, a mug of tea in her hand and fearful look on her face.

"Hal! Oh, I'm so glad to see you! But, where is Martin?" She stood aside to let him in, his wet clothes dripping and his mini-flashlight giving off a dim light in the darkness outside.

"He went in the ambulance to the hospital with the policeman." Hal's tone was grim and his voice sounded exhausted.

"Oh, Joe. How is he? Did Martin get there in time? What happened to the car?" She noticed how tired her visitor looked and stopped her questions abruptly. "Here, sit down and let me get you some tea."

Hal sat in the chair at the kitchen table, heavily. "That would go down a treat, my dear." He looked around for his wife and frowned when he didn't see her. "Did Zarie go back to the hotel? I thought she'd wait for me."

"She's still here. She just excused herself for the loo." Hal nodded, relieved, as Louisa set a mug of tea on the table in front of him, along with some chocolate biscuits arranged on a plate. As he took a grateful sip, she slipped into the utility room and came back with a towel just out of the dryer.

Hal took the towel and mopped his damp face and dried his hair. He felt a little more human dry and with the warmth of the tea in his hands and his throat. It had been a long and frightening ordeal just getting to the area where the rain had washed the hillside down over the constable's car. The storm had been intense and they'd been forced off-road several times where the rain had flowed down the road like a river. "Hal!" Zarie exclaimed as she returned to the room. "Oh, Hal, I am so glad to see you. Is everything alright? Where's Martin?" She threw her arms around his neck.

"Easy there, darlin' – I don't want to spill my tea."

She smacked his arm in mock chagrin, then kissed the top of his head and sat down beside him and began to rub his shoulders. "You didn't over do it, did you Hal? I was so worried."

"No, I'm fine. Martin kept an eye on me. Your husband is good in a crisis, isn't he, Louisa? And very dedicated to his patients."

Louisa nodded, taking a sip of her own tea. "Yes, yes he is. Those are some of the qualities that I first noticed about him."

"He really commanded the respect of the people in the pub too, persuaded them to go out and rescue the policeman in the middle of the storm. Remarkable."

"Yes, he's always been like that. Rescued our former police constable when he was bit by a snake in the woods at his stag party; did surgery on one of my students in the back of an ambulance to save his life; got Mr. Coley down of the roof at the school; and when James was kidnapped . . . well I just don't know what I we would do without him."

"Did you say James was kidnapped?" Hal asked in astonishment.

"Mercy!' said Zarie. "Who would want to take that sweet little boy?"

"It's another long story and I don't think I can do it justice just now. But one of Martin's patients went mental and took James off to a castle on the moor because she thought she was in love with Martin."

"My word!" Zarie patted Louisa's arm. "What an awful thing."

"Wow. That's a lot of excitement for one little town." Hal gave Zarie a meaningful look. "But this time everything will be okay. It was hard work and it took a lot of people but Joe is out of danger and on his way to the hospital as we speak. And Martin was amazing. He closed up the gash in the guy's forehead and set the broken bone in his leg right there in the rain with me holding the flashlight and that Morwenna girl handing him his instruments and some stranger from the pub holding a tarp so the rain wouldn't get in the wound."

Louisa smiled softly, looking down at her hands. "That sounds like Martin. He is really talented. You know he was a celebrated surgeon back when he was in London? Some days I think he belongs back in London using his talents instead of here in the back of beyond." Her voice was wistful.

"Oh, he seems to have plenty of chances to use his talents here in Portwenn from what I hear. It sounds like this is just where he is meant to be." Hal gave Louisa a reassuring smile and took her hand between both of his.

"I have to agree with Hal, sweetie," Zarie added. "You know, you married an interesting man, I have to say. A real interesting man."

Louisa chuckled. "I think you're right, Zarie."

X

"Hal! Zarie! Welcome back! Table for two?" asked the portly man wearing what Hal would have called a sweater vest. "Right this way."

"Hello, Bert! It's nice to see you again," said Zarie as the American couple followed the host across the terrace to a lovely table overlooking the harbor with a view of the gorgeous sunset.

"How are the Choughs? A Cornish treasure to be sure. Did you get out today?"

"No, we took it easy today," sighed Zarie. "We were out late last night, and tomorrow we head back to Edinburgh and then we fly back to Missouri."

"It's been a real adventure being here, though," added Hal. "We've seen the Choughs, seen the moor and the costal path, not to mention the pub." His eyes twinkled.

"And don't forget the Doctor's office," Zarie piped up. "Leave it to Hal to need emergency medical treatment on our dream vacation."

"Oh, yes, I heard you'd met our Doc Martin." Bert left a pregnant pause, and then went on, "he's a bit of an enigma, our Doc. Bullies everyone around, never enters in, refuses to go with the flow and all that. But he's got a good heart in there, he does. Takes good care of all of us. Take last night, with that nastiness with Joe Penhale. Out in the storm goes the Doc to take care of business."

"Yes, I was there. He was quite impressive. And he's helped me out too. And watching him with his wife and his little son I can't help thinking there's more to him than meets the eye."

"You're right about that, Hal. Why you should have seen him when Louisa moved back to London. He was a lost soul. Got grumpier and grumpier before our very eyes." Bert gave the Chuppins a conspiratorial smile. "You know it was me who persuaded him to give Portwenn a chance to begin with? He was ready to throw in the towel after his first couple of days in Portwenn but I had a little heart-to-heart and let him know how much we needed him here, whether he liked us or not. And he stayed, and through thick and thin he's been here for us all. And so for us here in Portwenn, he might be a tosser, but he's our tosser."

As Bert was speaking, Hal caught sight of the Ellinghams, walking along the beach by the harbor with James holding on to one hand of each of his parents and taking a couple of tiny, tentative steps before reaching up to his father to be carried. The doctor reached down and scooped up his son. For some reason, the sight warmed Hal's heart. He could imagine the sound of the baby's giggle.

"Yes," said Hal, thoughtfully. "Zarie, I think you're right. We did meet an interesting man."

**THE END**

X X XX X

Authors' Notes

Thank you, dear readers, for indulging us as we paid tribute to our stalwart friend, reviewer and fan, Chapin. We hope you've enjoyed another perspective on Portwenn and its inhabitants, and we especially hope that Chapin has had some fun on his virtual visit to Cornwall this summer.

Each of us would like to thank the rest of the team for reuniting on this project and supporting and encouraging each other in this endeavor. Our motto of the more the merrier has served us well as the whole story is so much more than a sum of its parts.

We'd also like to thank Buffalo Pictures and everyone associated with Doc Martin for giving us such wonderful inspiration

With love from the writers who make up the Hydra,

Boots1980

ggo85

GriffinStar

jd517

robspace54

Snowsie2011


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